More about Spanky, my Colorful Caribbean Cat.

The animal shelter on the east end of St Thomas consisted of two buildings - one for dogs and a smaller one for cats.  The "Cat House", as it was labeled with a hand painted sign, was little more than a shack with a series of cages around the outside perimeter. Kittens were kept inside.  I went in and saw several cute fur-balls with little tails sticking up.  Some running and bouncing and others sleeping.  They all looked very adoptable.  I went out to look in the cages around the perimeter.  Those cages held larger and more adult cats.  I knew these creatures were less likely to be adopted.  I walked past the cages, stooping to look inside.  I noticed one that was watching me.  It was a juvenile, not full grown.  A mix of color, tabby with white patches.  He came to the chicken-wire wall of the cage and sat looking at me.  I poked my finger through the wire to touch him.  He lowered his head so I could scratch around his ears. 

 

I enquired about him with the young West Indian woman who was looking after the Cat House that day.  She told me thought he'd be a good match for me.  She happened to know that the cat's previous owner was also a man – a young man who lived with his mother.  He'd been arrested and was in jail for a drug offence, and Mother didn't want the cat.  I paid the adoption fee and was told I could pick him up after he'd be taken to a vet for shots and neutering, which would take a couple of days   I returned to the cage where he was being kept to let him know I'd be back for him. 

 

After a couple days of settling in, it became apparent that this was an active and playful cat.   Also obvious was that he was unaccustomed to being an indoor cat.  He was always trying to get out, either through the front door of the apartment as I went in or out, or through the sliding screen door to my balcony overlooking the Lagoon.  But my front door was just a few steps from the road, a busy road to Red Hook.  I wasn't going to take chances with him roaming around. 

 

After about a month together I had some reason, which I don't now recall, to take Spanky to the vet.  In the examination room the vet looked at him briefly, turned to me and said, this cat had serious health problems.  He suspected there were a couple different infections.  If he was right, the prognosis was not good.  Did I really want to keep this cat?  I was shocked to hear this.  I'd just adopted him.  He'd been taken to a vet for shots and neutering before I brought him home.  I assumed his health was fine.  He'd been in my home long enough that I felt we'd bonded.  I wasn't going to simply give up on him now. 

 

I told the vet this.  He recommended blood tests to see the extent of the problem.  Then began a period when I'd take Spanky to the vet once every week for an injection of a cocktail of drugs to combat his infections.  I recall many days when it was clear that Spanky was not feeling well.  I hated to see him that way.  I felt so helpless.  At other times he was his usual high energy-self.  In time his health stabilized and his injections were reduced to once a month.  Eventually he was declared fit, except for the one infection for which there was no cure – FIV, the feline version of HIV.  He was otherwise healthy, but his immune system was compromised.     

    

As time went on Spanky and I developed a routines.  This was in the time of working for Trawlers in Paradise, which was right next door to my little apartment.  On days when I wasn't busy with charter guests, I'd come home for lunch, and then lay down for a short nap before going back to work.  Spanky would join me on the futon and nap with me. 

 

I had a friend from Washington DC who would come to visit.  She was an artist and worked as a freelance commercial artist.  We'd met on a charter I'd skippered.  On one of her trips down, while sitting at my desk, she caught Spanky and me napping with her camera.  Through the many years since that afternoon and all the miles between, I've still got that photo.  It's on our fridge now. 

 

I recently had the photo scanned into a digital file.  You'll see I was working on long hair back then.  Later, I briefly had a pony, which I got rid of on a business trip to St Lucia.  (Another story.)